


Look at Me

by divagonzo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Fit the narrative I wanted to tell, For reasons, Gen, includes one instance of xenophobia, woc!Hermione
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-14 10:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5740039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divagonzo/pseuds/divagonzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione Granger is a particularly gifted witch. She's also different in other ways, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Schoolyard

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** This fic was requested back in March of last year to another writer on Tumblr and I offered to write it. I spent months on research and observation to make this fic work. It took time and plenty of crafting. This one is near and dear to my heart since I am married to someone on the Autism spectrum (and have another close loved one with it, too.)
> 
> This particular fic is outside my nicheverse (cough _AU_ cough), because of the prompt I received and I had to nudge a few things to make it work as closely as canon but I hope it’s still acceptable to my readers, neuro-typical and neuro-atypical alike. 
> 
> Please bear in mind I am a writer, not a counselor or child psychologist. That is why I asked many wonderful ladies to read over such for better accuracy in depicting the character requested. Their assistance has made this a much, much better fic, in my opinion.
> 
> I’m also dedicating this fic to my older Hooligan, who haunts my blog and said she wanted to read it, too.
> 
> **Rated T** for various reasons, including crass words, racial epithets, adult situations, and later on, artificial lemon flavoring.

* * *

“Drs. Granger?” 

Robert Granger shook the older gentleman’s hand and entered the office. Jean followed them in and sat as well, shaking the Headmaster’s hand as well. 

“Thank you for coming in on such short notice.” He pushed a button on his phone and an older lady came in, leading six year old Hermione with her. Hermione’s face was flushed under her darker skin, showing her mortification through her features. Tear tracks stained her face while her shirt and skirt were tattered, like she had been in a tussle. In her hands was a checkerboard covered book that she held tightly to her chest. 

“Here she is, Headmaster. She was very upset at being summoned to the Headmaster’s office.” 

“Come here, sweetie,” a rich, melodious voice called to her from the seat. Hermione ran to her Mum and fell into her embrace. Tears flowed easily, leading to sniffles and an occasional sob. 

“They took my book, Mummy!” 

Mrs. Granger looked up from her extremely upset daughter on her lap. “Would you explain what happened, Headmaster?” Her accent slipped out, betraying that she was British but not English. Jean Granger looked like a more mature version of her daughter, with short bushy hair, prominent nose and cheekbones, and still showing the glow from her British West Indies childhood. 

“Mrs. Gale was there on the playground and saw what happened. I’ll let her explain it.” 

“Well, Hermione was sitting on the bench on the side of the playground, reading her book like she does during every break time. Some older lads thought picking on her would be a laugh and went to taunt her. She heard them speaking such silly things but for some reason, she didn’t react like the other girls would. When they finished, demanding she say something, she started talking about what she was reading, why it was much more interesting than what they were saying and she’d like to get back to her reading. 

“That went over as well as you’d expect from a playground bully. The lad doing the taunting, Eddie, slapped the book out of her hands and another one, William, ran off with it before throwing it over the fence. 

“Miss Granger was rather upset with the loss of her book. I turned my head to tend to Zoey who had fallen and scraped her knee on the pavement. When I looked up, Hermione pushed Eddie down and he kicked her shin, making her fall. He jumped on top of her and screamed at her while hitting her. 

“That’s why her uniform is natty.” 

“I sent another student for Miss Peel and tended Zoey as quickly as possible. When I finished, I looked up and saw something off. Eddie had her pinned in the dirt and she shoved him. He fell backwards, like he had been yanked by his jumper and thrown across the school yard, by some ghost or another.” 

“Hermione sat up and looked at Eddie across the school yard and started screaming at him, demanding her book back. He took off running inside the school house for his teacher, Mr. Barley, I presume. I went to check on Hermione, since Miss Peel hadn’t come out yet and Hermione was distraught. She wasn’t upset that Eddie pummeled her, but that she lost the book her Mum purchased for her. 

“When Miss Peel came out and found us, I went to look for the book. I found it in the weeks outside the fences and Hermione settled down once I returned it to her.” 

“Mr. Barley came out and insisted we come to his room to discuss the matter. Once in there, he said that Eddie told him that Hermione cursed him and that’s why he got mad.” 

“Hermione, did you curse at Eddie?” 

Hermione shook her head vehemently. 

Dr. Granger looked at his cowering daughter. “You need to tell us, not shake your head, Hermione. You’ve been accused of cursing the little boy and that’s why he got mad and hit you. Speak up, dear.” 

She turned and wouldn’t look at anyone, only her dusty shoes. “I didn’t curse Eddie. He called me a brownie and a golliwog, whatever that means. He was being mean to me and took my book away.” She looked up towards the Headmaster’s desk but refused to make any eye contact. “Eddie called me a freak and a feb. I ignored him, like Daddy taught me but he still hit me.” She looked at her father. “I didn’t curse that boy.” 

“Are you sure, Hermione?” the Headmaster looked bemused. “Eddie is a top pupil and would never react like such if he wasn’t provoked. Are you _sure_ you didn’t call him a bad name?” 

Hermione sat back in her Mum’s lap. “Mummy, I didn’t curse Eddie. He called me a freak and I told him he was rude and he should leave me alone. I didn’t do it!” she ended in a shriek. She started crying and uttered a broken _I’m not lying_.” 

“So can you explain how you pushed him hard enough to land on the other side of the schoolyard? Mrs. Gale saw Eddie hitting you on the ground and then it looked like you shoved him so hard he landed ten feet away. Can you explain that?” 

“I wanted him off of me. So I pushed him. I sat up and saw him running into the schoolhouse. I didn’t know I pushed him that hard.” 

“But Hermione, that’s extraordinary how far you pushed him. I don’t know how you did it.” 

“I didn’t do it, Mrs. Gale.” She looked at her mum. “Maybe he tripped or something.” 

The Headmaster looked at Mrs. Gale and the doctors Granger. “Why don’t we let Hermione stay home the rest of today and tomorrow so I can deal with Eddie’s parents. I’m sure his father will be rather beastly because Eddie will say Hermione provoked him.” 

“And that’s a load of rubbish!” Dr. Granger snarled. “My daughter isn’t a liar.” 

“I know that, Dr. Granger. Mrs. Gale supports Hermione’s story but I still have to deal with Mr. Pryce. If Eddie said that Hermione attacked him, I have to let him hear Mrs. Gale’s story to know that Eddie isn’t quite being truthful. He’s a top marks pupil but if his father heard that Hermione cursed him, he’ll believe Eddie and I’ll have to disabuse him of such. He might not believe that Hermione was minding her business and Eddie started the entire sordid affair.” 

“It sounds like Mr. Pryce is a bad influence on his son.” Dr. Granger looked at his wife and daughter. Hermione was still nestled in her Mum’s lap, looking asleep except for her large brown eyes watching yet not looking directly at anyone. “And my Hermione wouldn’t do that. She learned to read, and talk, almost at the same time she was walking. She knows better than to be mean to boys, especially at this age. I remember how cruel boys are and this is why we taught her to treat people the same, even if she’s a little different. If my daughter said she didn’t do it, then she didn’t. But that other child should be disciplined for using slurs against my child. I won’t sit aside and let the mindset of _boys will be boys_ treat my daughter like rubbish. So I’d suggest you inform Mr. Pryce that his son should stay away from my daughter from now on. I’d hate to pull her from here and the school loses the pounds I’m paying for her education.” 

“We can’t pick our parents, can we? So why don’t you take Hermione home and we’ll see her again on Monday. I know she’s upset and I want to give her a couple of days to not have to deal with any playground antics. After I speak with Mr. Pryce I doubt this incident will happen again.” 

Dr. Jean Granger adjusted Hermione on her lap. “After this incident, can she stay inside, like in the library, so this situation isn’t repeated? She loves to read and the librarian won’t have a problem with her. Will you, Hermione?” 

“No, mummy. I’ll be very good and quiet.” 

Mrs. Granger gave the Headmaster a hard look. “Is that acceptable, _Headmaster_?” Her slight accent punctuated the title with considerable force. 

“I think so. I’ll write a note for Mrs. Peel that Hermione is excused from recess for the rest of this term. If there are more problems, I’ll bring them to your attention straight away.” 

The Granger family stood up from their seats and went towards the door. The Headmaster escorted them to the front office. “You know, something boggles me. How did Hermione push him so hard he flew ten feet through the air? Was it about ten feet, Mrs. Gale?” 

“It sure looked like that. He landed on the grass and looked stunned for a moment before getting up and running for the school building. I can’t explain it.” 

Mrs. Granger held her daughter in her arms. “I can’t either, headmaster. That is boggling.” She looked at her husband. “But I’m sure the lad will say it was 15 meters by the time his father is here.” She walked out with her daughter comfortably nestled in her arms. 

The Headmaster returned to his seat, regarding the matron teacher sitting with him. “How long is it until the Pryces are here?” 

“About twenty minutes, Headmaster.” 

He read over the reports from the incident while Mrs. Gale fetched tea. “How did she push him so far?” he asked when she returned. 

“I don’t rightly know, Headmaster,” as she was making her own tea. 


	2. The Bookstore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione finds a particular book that speaks to her directly.

* * *

“Hermione, dear, we’re leaving.” 

Hermione continued to read the book on the new release table, fascinated at the tale that spoke so much to her. She read voraciously, inhaling the pages in front of her hands. The pranks the protagonist played amused Hermione to no end. 

“Hermione, come, now,” her Mum hissed before grabbing Hermione’s arm. She dropped the book and an entire stack of books fell from the shelves, right at her feet. The bookcase behind her dumped over, knocking books everywhere. 

“You pick that up straight away. I won’t have you having a tantrum to get what you want,” Her mum said aloud, to cover another unusual occurrence. Jean dropped to her knees, sorting the various books. As long as Hermione was told rather than touched first, she was fine. Looks like her child didn’t hear her again. 

“I’m sorry Mummy. It was an accident. I didn’t hear you.” Hermione bent over, keeping the book she was reading at her feet while putting the rest of the books back on the shelf. 

Jean Granger watched her daughter fight back tears while cleaning up the books. She knelt down and helped her right the shelves so Hermione could put the books back in order. 

“I said your name twice, Hermione. You should listen better.” Jean stood up again, towering over her daughter. 

Hermione tried to hide the frustration from her Mum but failed. She wiped them on the edge of her jumper, trying to staunch the flow while she finished tidying the bookshelves. She worked diligently, putting them in alphabetical order like they were before. Only when she finished her task of cleaning up the mess she somehow made did she stand up and look at her Mum. She handed over the book she had been reading when she was startled. 

“Mummy, can’t I have this one? Please Mummy? I won’t need anything else for Christmas.” 

“Let me see the book, dear.” 

Hermione pushed the smaller book over towards her mum, refusing to watch the reaction that was coming. Daddy usually said yes to new book purchases, while Mummy was much more frugal, refusing often until they had a few pounds to spare. But Christmas was coming and she’d been so good until today. 

“This is all I want for Christmas. I don’t need anything else.” She looked back at her feet bashfully, listening to the one word that Mum usually had for her when she begged for something extra. 

“All right. We’ll get it. But Father Christmas might be rather disappointed in your behavior today. Having a tantrum is childish behavior, Hermione, and I won’t put up with it. We expect better from you, dear.” 

“Yes, Mum.” She kept her head down while they walked towards the front of the store. “I’m sorry, Mummy. I’ll try to control my temper from now on.” 

Mr. Cole was behind the desk, ringing up another customer. “Ah, Mrs. Granger. It’s so nice to see you again.” 

“Hermione has picked out another book.” She handed the yellow book to the proprietor and smiled. “She accidently knocked over a bookshelf but we tidied it before we came to make our purchase. Tell Mr. Cole you’re sorry.” 

“I’m sorry I had a tantrum,” She whispered into the countertop, “but I cleaned it all up before she said I could have the book.” 

“We all make mistakes, Hermione.” He looked back at Mrs. Granger and smiled. “Miss Hermione is a sweet child, she is. I’m glad to see she’s still reading voraciously.” He pulled out a pad for writing out the receipts. “We got this particular book about a month prior, I reckon. She might not recognize the author but I’m sure you do.” 

“I was hesitant to let her read it but since it has your stamp of approval for her age, I figure it wouldn’t be terribly adult for her.” Jean looked over at Hermione and smiled. “I’ve read his other works and don’t think she’s ready to read some of his other writings yet.” Hermione tried to smile back but it came out in a grimace. “We encourage her to read fiction since her normal book preference is history, for some reason. She’s devoured all of Robert’s books and we have to limit those, since some historical accountings are too adult for a precocious nine year old.” 

“No, she’s the right age for reading that particular book. I think she’ll like it well enough. My wife read it when it came in which is why it has the Cole’s bookstore seal of approval. My wife is very traditional and old fashioned and hesitates to allow children to read anything not appropriate.” 

Hermione finally glanced up at Mr. Cole’s smiling face while he ringing up the sale. “But since she’s already a history buff, I think a little bit of fiction every now and then does wonders for the imagination.” He looked up from the sack and saw Hermione – with her hair wild and her eyes very bright looking over the counter at him before she glanced away. 

“Hello my dear. I’m happy to see you again.” He keyed in the amount into the register on the counter top. 

“Hello,” she whispered back. “Thank you Mr. Cole. I’m terribly sorry for knocking over your bookshelves.” Hermione put her face down, looking at the counter rather than Mr. Cole. “It was an accident.” 

“And your Mummy said that you straightened it up immediately. Accidents happen, my dear.” 

Mrs. Granger handed over the £2,50 to Mr. Cole and accepted the sack back. “Come Hermione. You can read the book in the car. But once we’re home, you wash up for dinner.” 

“Yes Mummy.” 

“Both of you have a nice day. I hope to see you again shortly.” 

“I’m sure we’ll stop in again when we are in the area.” The Grangers left the shop and made their way towards the auto, parked out on the street. Once Hermione was seated in the back seat, strapped in safely and Jean in the front seat did she stop and look at her daughter. “I’m disappointed in you, Hermione. I know you didn’t mean to do that in the shop but you have to be careful. I don’t want more people talking about you than they already do at your school. I can explain that away enough but if others know you’re _different_ I dunno what we can do.” 

“I didn’t mean to, Mummy. I didn’t hear you and then you startled me. Then the books flew off the shelves. It was an accident.” Hermione looked down and her lip started quivering. 

Jean sighed. “I thought you heard me the first time. I went to the door and you were engrossed in the book.” Jean turned the key on the auto and saw Hermione still looking upset. “When I reached for you, you startled then the books flew off the shelf.” 

“It reminded me of Matilda,” she said softly over the whine of the car. 

“Who is Matilda?” 

Hermione held the sack up for her Mum to see. “She’s the girl in the book. She made things move with her mind, at least what little bit I read.” 

“Oh, so you think you’re like Matilda?” 

“Maybe,” she whispered. “She seems nice. But I don’t know if Matilda is a good person or a bad one.” 

“Well, after dinner, you can read part of it to me and we’ll talk about it.” 

“Yes Mummy.” 

Jean pulled out of the parking space in Bicester and started for home, not seeing that Hermione was once again engrossed in the book. 


	3. Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day before the train ride to Hogwarts and Diagon Alley is crowded - unbelievably so, at least to Hermione.

* * *

“So what else did you do before you came here, Hermione?” Ron grinned because he knew she’d talk as much as Ginny normally did. 

“My parents took me to the theatre and we saw Romeo and Juliet and you wouldn’t believe how silly the two characters were. I never saw such rubbish but since its Shakespeare and its world renown, I couldn’t refuse going with Mum and Dad. And we had seats close enough where I could watch them but not so far I had to use Mummy’s theatre glasses.” 

Ron glanced down at Hermione whom he towered over now. He cut a path through the crowds of Diagon Alley while she walked next to him on a lovely rare sunny day in August. Harry was already here, but off with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to tend to Gringott’s business. Percy was his minder today, but he, and Hermione, could walk around, within reason and check back in occasionally. Then it was off to Flourish and Blott’s to get their school books. And, according to Hermione, her parents were there too, exchanging pounds for galleons. 

“Ron, why is it so crowded? It wasn’t this crowded last year when we came to get my things.” 

“When did you come last year?” He threaded his way through the crowds with Hermione closely behind him. 

“I want to say it was a fortnight before.” 

“Well, when it is two days before the train departs for Hogwarts, Diagon Alley is crowded.” Ron’s ears went red, for some reason. “Mum needed to get our things before we leave for school. Dad was paid yesterday and has to shop for Ginny as well as getting our things. I’m sure that will take a little while, I reckon. I asked for a new wand but Mum said Ginny’s things came first.” Ron looked over the crowds. “Wands are rather expensive.” 

“Well, can we go by Flourish and Blott’s now? I’d like to look at some books for a spell.” 

“Books? I thought you’d have already purchased a copy of each one by now. Don’t you have everything in your bedroom at home?” Ron continued on past the bookstore towards the front of Quality Quidditch Supply. “Check this out, Hermione. That there broom, in the window, is a Nimbus 2001. It was just released last week.” He looked at her and saw her staring at the passing people. “I wonder how many galleons that cost. I hope I can afford one, someday,” he finished in a near whisper. 

Ron continued to admire the broom in the window with the crowds bumping into them. Hermione scooted in closer to him but Ron nattered on about the broom in the window, along with how fast it flew and other information that flew past her ears. 

“Ron, it’s crowded out here. Can we _please_ go inside?” 

“Just a minute. I want to go in and get some oil for my broom polishing kit.” He continued to stand there, prattling on about the new broom and how the National teams would probably be flying on them in the Quidditch World Cup qualifying matches. “I’d love to see them in action, you know. Professional Quidditch is amazing to watch but Dad probably can’t afford tickets this year either. They’re dead expensive, galleons wise, and there’s a list a mile long to get them, unless it’s the Cannons.” 

A witch bumped into Hermione, knocking her into Ron. “Move your bum, stupid brat. Quit blocking the walkway.” 

Hermione broke out into tears and ran next door into the bookstore, leaving Ron flabbergasted. He followed her into the shop, weaving his way through the shelves and customers to the back corner of the shop, almost under the stairs. Hermione was there, cowering on the bench, wiping her face from the tears that she couldn’t staunch. 

“Hermione, what happened? Did that mean witch hurt you?” 

“She pushed me, hard. That rude fat witch also called me stupid.” She wiped her face again. “I’m not stupid. I was standing next to you but she called _me_ stupid.” 

“Well, um, maybe. We were blocking the pavement standing there.” 

“I asked you if we could come in here but you stayed there. Why?” 

Ron ran his hand through his hair and wouldn’t look at Hermione. “I’ve never seen a brand new broom before. It’s rather nice to look at, I reckon.” He looked around for Harry and didn’t see him. “Harry’s is nice and all, but that one was so pretty.” 

“Well, you go back and look at it, you can. I’m not going back out there, not for a while.” She heard herself and quieted down. “There are some books I want to look at.” She looked at Ron and saw his grimace. “I won’t keep you from looking at the Quidditch supplies since the books don’t interest you.” 

“They do, Hermione.” 

“But not as much as Quidditch supplies, right?” 

He scuffed his toe on the well-worn tile floor. “Well, yeah, I guess.” 

“I’ll stay in here until you return, Ron. I’ll be fine shortly.” 

“You sure, Hermione?” 

She nodded slowly. “I’m sure. You go on next door.” 

“If you say so,” he replied before walking out of the book store. 

Hermione watched him walk out of the store and saw him going into the shop across the alleyway. She stayed sitting on her bench another few minutes, focusing on her breathing until she calmed down. There was always something about parchment and ink and bookstores that settled her nerves and calmed her down. 

Eventually, she stood up from her hiding nook and took a few steps into the shop and saw the books lining the shelves on the wall. Each one interested her, from the _Complete History of Centaurs in the Forests of England_ to _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them_. She took a few steps, sliding in front of another shelf and saw legal tomes discussing genealogy of elves in Ireland to Goblin insurrections in the seventeenth century and Giant Wars through the Renaissance. 

She picked the last one up off the shelf and was instantly transported into that world, reading about Eckhart the Foolish walking into a territory dispute and losing his mount and arm in the process. 

She finished three chapters when Ron tapped her on the shoulder. 

Bookshelves dumped their books along with rubbish flying around their part of the bookstore. “Ron! You startled me.” She went to work tidying up, ignoring him pointedly until she finished putting the books away. “Why did you do that?” she demanded. 

“I called your name three times, Hermione. I am sorry. I’ve been outside an hour waiting on you and when you didn’t come out, Mum sent me in to get you.” 

“Has it been an hour? I didn’t realize it.” 

“Well, yeah. Aren’t you famished?” 

“Not really. I was reading this book, _Wars with Giants in the Renaissance Era_ and got lost in it.” 

“Well, either buy it or put it back and let’s get over to the Leaky for lunch. Fred and George are back from their trip to Zonko’s and have a ton of things they are gossiping about.” 

“Oh, ok.” Hermione kept the book in her hands and threaded through the ancient shop to the front where she laid down her 5 galleons for the book. 

“You and your light reading,” Ron cheeked as they walked through the diminished crowds in Diagon Alley. 

“Well, it is rather fascinating. There was a section in _Hogwarts, A History_ that talked about the Giants trying to batter down one of the Hogwarts towers before the Headmaster at the time, Merlin McMurray, stood out on the battlements and challenged the giant. Naturally, being giants and they are not that bright, tried to reach him on the battlement and slipped on the charmed edge of the crevice and fell to his death.” 

Ron opened the door to the Leaky Cauldron and let Hermione go in first. 

“Hermione, there you are! We’ve been waiting ages on you. Ron said you ran into the shop and he left for a moment but you were in there another hour!” 

“Sorry for making you worry, Mrs. Weasley. I was reading this book and lost track of time.” She flushed slightly and looked at the tabletop behind Molly. “I’ll try to keep track of time better next time.” 

Ron sat down first and tucked into his cottage pie, not seeing Hermione taking a seat across from him, next to Ginny. He looked up between bites and saw her smiling a little and grinned again before tucking back into his meal. 

A harried waitress bustled by and brought her an order of cottage pie too. She looked at it and screwed up her face for a moment before picking the casserole apart to take out the carrots and lumps of potato, too. 

“Hermione, aren’t you hungry?” 

“I’ll tuck in a second Mrs. Weasley.” She finished removing the carrots and potatoes from her casserole before arranging it just so. She pushed the side of peas across her plate, not touching the carrots or anything else. Once she’d arranged her plate accordingly, she took a bite of the casserole and smiled. 

Hermione looked up and saw Ron smiling at the piles of carrots and potatoes pushed onto her plate before devouring the rest of his lunch. “I’ll eat them if you won’t.” 

“I’ll get to them once I’m done with this, first.” 

“If you say so,” Ron spooned his peas up before finishing the rest on his plate. 


	4. Australia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and her Mum are rowing while Ron and Dr. Granger are hiding in his study. Ron learns more about the special witch in his life - and gains more than he bargained for.

* * *

“Ron, I hope you know how different Hermione is.” 

The rowing continued in the next room. Loud voices echoed down the hallway making an irritating cacophony in the house. Every crass word from Mrs. Granger made Ron shrink further down into the couch. He’d said much of the same rowing with her, but without the venom he heard. But then Hermione wasn’t a wilting violet, either. 

“Different? I know she’s a witch and that makes her different as a Muggleborn.” 

Shouting erupted for a moment before the quiet settled over the other end of the house. 

“No, I mean in other ways. Do you have doctors in your world?” 

“You mean healers, when people get hurt and sick? Sure. Mum patched us up most of the time at home unless it was really something serious. That happened once when the Twins accidentally torched Percy’s hair and Dad couldn’t get it out in time. They didn’t sit well for at least a week, I reckon.” 

“Well, Ron, when Hermione was a wee lass, we took her to some special healers. Her mother and I had some questions for them because she was so different from the other kids and it started at an early age. It wasn’t until the nice lady in the tartan robes arrived on our doorstep made us realize how different and special she truly is.” 

“Of course she’s different,” Ron spoke up immediately. “Have you seen her study? She’s something else. Heck, she’s how I got through most of my classes. She’d help me with my notes and teach and tutor me and I’d just get it. Her brain works in ways mine never will. She’s so bloody brilliant it’s boggling.” 

“No, Ron, different in other ways. Have you noticed that she never takes her tea any other way than just a drop or two of milk? If there’s too much milk in it, she won’t drink it. Have you noticed that she will only eat her food one at a time on her plate, in a counter-clockwise motion? Have you noticed she won’t eat mushy carrots or that she follows the exact same routine for bed? I won’t even mention about when she’s under stress, she’ll read until she can’t stay awake any longer, passing out wherever she is. And then there’s her fascination with my collection of history books and distinct appreciation for orange cats.” 

“No, I’ve not seen that. But then the last year or two has been rather barmy, frankly.” Ron smirked at the last one. “Crookshanks would be the orange cat, I reckon. Have you seen that beast? The thing’s a menace if you ask me. And history doesn’t surprise me. She’s constantly nattering on about something out of _Hogwarts, a History_. I don’t know how she can keep straight all the goblin names.” 

“Then how about this? When she’s upset, does she look at you, or look just past you? When you row with her, will she look at you or somewhere else, like above your head, or at your chest? Does she get upset when she’s in a stressful situation and can’t make things quiet, does she run off to somewhere it is quiet and not busy?” 

“Now that you mention it, when she’s really upset, not rowing at me, she won’t look at me. She’ll look elsewhere. Drives me mental, it does.” Ron rubbed his arms while thinking about the rest. “And she does spend lots of hours in the library, especially when the common room was too noisy.” 

“And what about when you kiss her? Does she look at you then, like in the eyes?” 

“Mr. Granger, sir?” His face turned bright red. 

“I’m not prying but I want you to notice things. So let me ask again: when you kiss her, will she look at you, look you in the eye?” 

“Sometimes,” Ron blushed, “but not always. But that’s just Hermione. I thought it was ‘cause she really liked kissing me.” 

“But that’s not true, is it? You realize it now, right?"

“Yeah, I was a bit of a tosser then. I didn’t think Hermione thought of me as other than her prat of a friend.” 

“And now you know that’s not the case, right?” Dr. Granger’s voiced things that Ron hadn’t learned yet. “That Christmas was pleasant for us, but she was miserable without you. Even I could see that.” 

“Yes, sir. I know that now. She’s made it abundantly clear. Even a prat like me understands it.” Ron looked at his hands, remembering all the things they said after she woke at Shell Cottage. 

“Have you been intimate with her?” 

Ron turned goggle eyed and looked away. “Yes, sir, we have. It was the day of my brother’s funeral, actually. That was about three weeks ago.” 

“That recent? I’m surprised.” 

“Yes, sir.” Ron kept his face hidden with mortification. “Being hunted and Hermione being on the most wanted list the entire year didn’t help things. And we were protecting Harry, too, so it really wasn’t a holiday for us. It was rather miserable most of the time.” 

“Ah, well,” Dr. Granger went painfully silent. “Someday, will you tell me what happened?” 

Glass shattered in another room, breaking their silence. Jean Granger was screaming and it sounded like broken English, mixed with a language Ron didn’t recognize. Ron stood up when he heard Hermione start screeching back. 

“Uh oh. She’s mixing her Spanish and English again. We might be in trouble.”

“I’ll tell you some of it, sir, but not right now.” Ron stepped away from his conversation and went towards the door. 

“I’d not get between them. When Jean’s in a strop there’s usually hell to pay if you interrupt her.”

“I’m worried about her, not Hermione.”

Robert snickered. “Took a swing or two at you, has she? She has her mum’s temper sometimes.” 

“No, just set a flock of conjured canaries on me when I was a certifiable git.” Ron refused to mention getting hit when he returned to her side a few short months ago. “So I’ll be back in a tick.” 

Ron went to the door of the study, where they had ducked into when the shouting started. He couldn’t open the door. “Damn it,” he pulled his wand from his trousers and tried to unlock it. It took three tries before he could get the blasted thing open. He stepped out of the study and saw the mess in the parlor from his spot in the hallway. Glass was everywhere and Hermione was nowhere to be seen. “Perfect,” he growled to himself. He stepped up to the doors leading to the patio and looked through. Mrs. Granger was standing out on the bricks of the patio, shoulders heaving while she hugged herself tightly. 

Ron returned to the study to inform Mr. Granger while he went to find Hermione. 

Sure enough, she was magically barricaded in the guest room. This time, it only took two attempts to open the door. He stepped inside her sanctuary and took the surroundings in. There was no television in this room, nor was there much of anything that would be remiss in an inn. A double bed, a nightstand and a desk were in the room but nothing else. It wasn’t a room that would be occupied by anyone except a guest. 

But until two days ago, Monica and Wendell Wilkins didn’t know they had a daughter. But the daughter now was sniffing in the chair at the desk, in front of the window, looking completely lost. 

“Hermione?” 

Ron watched her sit, refusing to acknowledge him. Tears coursed down her face without her bothering to wipe them. 

“Talk to me, please.” 

She refused to turn around again. He watched as she shook inside her jumper and she rubbed her hands up and down her arms repeatedly. He went to her side and saw the grief and anguish on her face, etched into every hallowed crevice and in every dark shadow. Her eyes were bloodshot and the baggage under her eyes resembled steamer trunks. The Australian winter sun didn’t hide the tumultuous emotional storm creased across her face. 

“Hermione, speak to me, please. I want to help but you need to talk to me.” 

He watched her shake her head so lightly he questioned whether it actually occurred. She shuddered and continued rubbing her arms. 

“Please?” 

She continued to stare out the window onto the next door neighbor’s back yard. 

Ron sighed. “I’ll be downstairs with your Dad if you need me.” Ron watched her seconds longer, looking out the window and refusing to acknowledge him. He padded out of the room again, closing the door behind him. 

“Damn it,” he muttered to himself. He beat his head on the wall for a moment while lost in trying to help her. “Why won’t you let me help?” 

Ron padded down the stairs. 

He saw Mrs. Granger working in the kitchen, cleaning the mess left from earlier. He didn’t want to raise her ire again, asking what she was rowing about. Instead, he slipped back into the study. 

He plopped down on the couch and sighed. 

“She wouldn’t talk to you, did she?” Robert didn’t look up from his book. 

“No, not at all. She wouldn’t even turn around to look at me. I told her where I where I would be and she barely acknowledged that. I dunno how I can help her, or stay off of your wife’s bad side. I’ve seen sturdier egg shells than what’s in the house right now.” 

“I expected that too. Where Jean gets bent and barmy, Hermione goes completely silent.” He sighed and pushed the glasses up his nose. “We might not hear from her for a few days. She’s not mad at you. But she needs the time to process what happened and that might take a while. She’ll come around, hopefully. Or she could get irate and row with her Mum again. With Hermione, it’s either one or the other, with nothing in between. But that’s her, too.” 

“And there’s nothing I can do, is there?’ 

“No, not to rush it. Just be there with her, and give her time and the distance she needs. She’ll come around. It might not be immediate but she will come back to you.” Robert got up from the couch and padded to the kitchen. “Oh, and don’t be alarmed if she won’t join you in bed, either.” He stopped in the doorway, looking across the hallway to the kitchen, where Mrs. Granger was washing dishes. “When Hermione gets upset, she can’t sleep. She’s been that way since she was a child. She gets it from her Mum. I’m sure Jean will be keeping me awake much of tonight, to talk too. Hermione hasn’t learned that yet, about talking with someone about her problems. She thinks she’s the only one who can fix things. But right now, after everything that has happened, she has a lot to work to do to repair our broken trust. And I think you can understand the gravity of the situation, even if you weren’t directly involved.” 

Robert left the room, leaving Ron catching his breath. Robert hadn’t yelled once since they became the Grangers again, but knew the man’s temper was in check only because his wife was furious. 

Ron picked up the book Hermione had been reading and read for a while but after a couple of hours he put it down as a bad job. Instead he wandered back up to her room and silently let himself in. Sure enough, she was still sitting at her desk, looking out the window into the Australian night. If he wasn’t watching, he’d wonder if she was still breathing, she was so still. 

“Hermione?” 

She didn’t stir with his inquiry. He looked closer and wondered if she’d even moved since he was last upstairs. 

He crawled into the double bed and attempted to get comfortable. He was missing her but wouldn’t push her to come join him. One row a day was bad enough, he reckoned. 

Ron fell asleep and woke hours later, the other side of the bed having not been slept in. He went to the door and needed his wand to open it, as well as breaking the silencing spell. As soon as he did, he heard the yelling again. 

“Bloody Hell.” 


	5. Rowing in Circles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron waited to tell Hermione some important information on her Christmas hols from Hogwarts and it leads to problems.

* * *

“Alright Harry, spill it.”

“I dunno what you’re talking about.” 

“Rubbish. You’ve been quiet all day. That’s not you.” 

Harry looked at Hermione and frowned. “I’ll tell you: Ron and I have to leave in the morning for training and won’t be able to see you off at the station.” 

“Excuse me?” She shrieked. “You’re just now telling me this?” 

“Didn’t Ron say anything?” 

She crossed her arms and threw her hip out. “Obviously not, Harry.” 

He snorted. “Fine. Basically, we have to leave at 4am to get to the Ministry. We’re going to be off training, a mission I think. The mission could be a week or three months, depending on how it goes. Owls will be monitored and we won’t be able to write daily, or even weekly, maybe.” 

“Why didn’t Ron tell me this?” 

“Maybe he didn’t want you to get hurt or upset.” Harry backed away from her in case she decided to pull her wand on him. 

“I am upset, Harry. My boyfriend didn’t tell me that he was leaving on a dangerous mission, possibly for months at a time. He didn’t bother to tell me this entire week and instead I have to find out from you.” 

“Maybe he was going to tell you when he got home from the Wheezes. He’s been working a lot these past few weeks to save his galleons up. You know when he’s not on duty at the Ministry, he’s been helping George.” 

“But why are you only now telling me, and not the first of the week when Ginny and I came home on holiday?” 

“I thought he told you. That’s why he’s taken you out so much and did more things when he’s not been working. He arranged time off from his duties at the Ministry and with George this week so he could spend it with you.” 

She pouted. “He should have told me.” 

Harry turned towards hallway, hearing the front door open. “I don’t know why he didn’t tell you.” 

“Tell you what?” Ron walked in with Ginny behind him. “Mum said dinner is at 7 sharp.” 

“You,” she snarled, “didn’t bother to tell me that you and Harry have to leave early tomorrow morning for training and might be gone months.” 

Ginny threw her jacket onto the couch. “Yeah, I know. It’s wretched.” 

Hermione turned on Ginny and Harry. “You knew?” 

“Well, yeah. Harry told me when he picked me up at the Station last weekend.” 

“They knew and you knew but you didn’t tell me? Why?” 

Harry pulled Ginny away from the ever-louder Hermione and made their escape before the fireworks could engulf them too. 

Ron backed up towards the fireplace and then scooted aside when he got too close to the actual flames. 

“I asked you a question.” 

Ron collapsed into the wingback chair by the fireplace and sighed. “I found out Monday when I went into the office that night. Robards said that we had a training hop for the next Monday and we had to leave London on the 5:30 train Sunday morning for our destination. But you and I had made plans the weeks before you were on break and then this came up.” He saw her standing before him, with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. “You’d have been in a strop if I’d told you Sunday and had a bit of a fit the rest of the night. And instead, this week has been quite pleasant.” He was sure she understood what he was referring to, later that night after dinner. 

“But you still didn’t tell me. We agreed to no more secrets.” 

“And if I had messed up our plans, by telling you before today, you’d have fret over the change in scheduling and been wound up over it, worrying about me and wondering if you had enough time for revision and a hundred other worries that would have left you worn out most of the week. Instead you were able to stay on your schedule and we had a very good week. Right?” 

“When were you willing to tell me, tonight after you shagged me rotten?” 

“No,” he pouted back. “I was going to tell you when we went out on our date tonight. Instead, that git mentioned it first. I’m going to have to thump him when we’re out.” 

“You’ll do no such thing. You should have told me.” 

“And by not, we’ve had a good week together, yeah?” Ron looked directly at Hermione but she refused to look at him. 

“Well, yes but you should have told me when you found out.” She turned to face the fireplace, trying to ignore him. 

“And you’d have worried yourself sick for no reason.” 

“And you are a perfectly good reason to worry, Ron Weasley.” 

“But it’s a training mission. I’ll be back in no worse shape than when I leave.” He stood up and stepped behind her, embracing her in a hug. 

She shrugged him off and walked away towards the other side of the parlour, refusing to look at him. “And you’re mad. Aurors die on training missions just as often as on regular ones. It’s not completely safe, Ron.” She turned and looked his way, not quite making eye contact. 

“And people die playing Quidditch but that hasn’t happened in over three hundred years.” He moved right in front of her and pulled her face up towards his. “Look at me, please.” 

She did and he saw the fear in her eyes. “Why are you brushing off what I think?” 

“Because you are focusing on what can go wrong as opposed to what can go right.” He put his hands on her shoulders, trying to keep the eye contact. 

She shook him off again and walked back a step, looking at his chest. “And you’re not taking it seriously.” She crossed her arms and habitually rubbed her arms. “I can’t lose you, not after everything else.” 

“You’re not going to lose me, ever.” He stepped in front of Hermione and knelt down where she had to look at him. “And yes I am. It’s my first training mission, unlike the general training back in the autumn. I fail this, I’m done. I don’t get to be an apprentice and I don’t get to be an Auror. I have to pass this.” 

“But Kingsley – “

“Kingsley said I could get in without my NEWTS. He didn’t say I could bypass everything and have a wand and go on missions completely ignorant.” 

“That’s exactly my point. These are Aurors and it’s not Quidditch. Aurors don’t always survive, Ron.” She stepped backwards and collapsed on the couch behind her, putting her head in her hands. “You could be hurt or worse.” 

“Yes, but someone has to go after the sods who caused all this mess. You know that there are few Aurors left and someone has to man up and agree to bring them to justice.” Ron sat down on the couch next to her. 

“But you’ve given enough already. So has Harry. Why you?” 

“I have to do this, Hermione. I need to do this.” He looked at her worried face and his grew stoic. “There’s no one else so I need to go. I have to protect Harry but I’m doing this for you, and for me.” 

Hermione turned and finally looked at him. “What?” She stood up immediately and started to pace. 

“Come here, please.” 

Hermione stood in front of Ron and he took her hands in his. “Look, I’m shite with words but I know this. I couldn’t protect you, not after I walked out on you. And even when I was there, I couldn’t protect you. I know you’re still having nightmares after what happened and I am too, even if I don’t talk about them much. I know you think it’s bloody mental but my nightmares are not rescuing you in time, or watching you get hurt, over and over, and doing sod all about it. 

“That’s why I have to do this. Maybe if I can help someone else, where I failed you, maybe the nightmares will calm down. Maybe if I can do some good in this world, helping bring the arseholes to justice maybe I can find some peace, too.” Ron looked up at her, pleading with his eyes and hands. “Maybe I can make up for walking out on you when you needed me the most and have you be proud of me, for what I’m doing.” 

“I am proud of you. Putting yourself in constant danger doesn’t add to it.” 

He pulled her closer even when her hands shook. “But I need to be proud of myself, Hermione. I know this sucks and its shit that I have to leave early for this sodding mission but duty calls. I will write when I can but I won’t have much time to reply to your letters. But send them anyway since I’m sure the training is going to be fucked up.” 

She calmed her hands, focusing on how warm his were covering hers. “I’m still going to worry.” 

“I know. But I need to do this.” He pulled her hands to his chest and held them there, along with holding her gaze. 

“Ron?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Can we postpone our date until you get back?” She looked away, blushing to the collar of her jumper. 

“But I was going to take you to dinner and the theatre.” He pouted, slightly. 

“And you can, when you get back.” She smiled, the first time since he’d come home from work. “I want you to have something to look forward to. I want something to look forward to.” 

“I don’t need dinner and the theatre for that. I only need to see you, and maybe a smile, and I’m good.” He stood, dwarfing her in his trainers. “Now do you want dinner? I’m sure we can get takeaway from the place around the corner.” 

“I’m not hungry, at least for food.” She looked away from his face to her toes, blushing in the firelight. 

“You have something else in mind?” He cheeked, knowing that she was mortified to admit what she wanted. 

“I do, upstairs.” 

Ron grinned. “Lead the way, love.” 

They walked out of the parlor and Hermione stopped on the first step. She turned to see his worried face. “Make love to me tonight. I want to remember it while you are gone.” She lifted her face to his, touching his scruffy cheeks. “I need you and I need this.” 

“I’m all yours.” 


	6. Crowded libraries and empty showers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron is home from training and needs some quality time with Hermione. She has other ideas.

* * *

Ron slammed the door behind him and melted into the doorjamb. He put his broom next to the stairwell banister and melted further into his boots. The Auror training regimen was nothing like Quidditch. They required him to spend hours on his broom, fighting one on one in aerial combat. 

At first, it seemed like a brilliant idea. Wand fights from the back of the broom while running like a dragon was on his bum seemed the height of excitement. Six hours later, though, and he couldn’t decide what hurt worse – his bum or his bollocks. 

Both screamed in agony with each step. 

And to think he had to do it all over again tomorrow night. 

At least it was overnight and it wasn’t bloody sweltering up in the air. If he had to do aerial combat in broad daylight, in the heat, he might as well kiss a dragon than do that! But now that he was a full-fledged apprentice, he had to jump when they said so, at a moment’s notice. 

The grand life of an Auror: moments of pure adrenaline terror and weeks of sodding paperwork. If it weren’t for the adrenaline rush, Hermione would be perfect for the job. 

He trudged up the stairs to the first floor and kicked open the door to their room. Hermione wasn’t in there but he knew she’d join him shortly, once she heard the shower water running in the bathroom across the hallway. 

Ron threw off his jacket before peeking into the room next door to the bedroom. It was barely bigger than a water closet but Hermione made it work as her office. The desk was in front of the wall and the bookshelves under the window. The chair made a tight fit but she didn’t mind in the least. She said it reminded her of her office at work. 

He saw her sitting at her desk, reading a huge book in her lap. But he knew her. Once she heard the water running, she’d come join him. He left her in there and trudged the fifteen agonizing feet to the bathroom. Once inside, he turned on the water as hot as he could potentially stand it and stripped out of his grotty clothes. Off came the sodden trainers and his mud crusted denims and putrid socks. Even the rank vest came off in a rush, stinking like he’d been rolling in the chicken coop. 

He pushed the offending pants, the ones he shouldn’t have worn today. They itched and chafed him in all the wrong places in all the worst ways. He’d have to wear something else tomorrow so he’d be reasonably comfortable, especially if he had to fly another six hours on his broom. 

Cushioning charms only did so much. 

After he showered, which included some Hermione quality snogging and more, he’d get something to eat and kip a few hours. Since it was early, maybe she’d join him for breakfast before he crashed and she went to visit her parents. 

He stepped into the shower and hissed, letting the scalding water wash over him. Once he stopped hurting from the water, he worked the flannel with the soap Hermione picked up for him and went to work scrubbing the grime out of every crevice and speck of salt left on his body. He worked the flannel even over the soles of his feet, hoping against hope that Hermione would join him. 

He stepped back under the hot spray and let it rinse all the soap bubbles sticking to his lean frame. He rinsed his hair again, feeling that it was close to unkempt for regulations but still short enough to avoid hassle from the Senior Aurors. 

But with the noise and the time spent in there, he was left alone. 

He finished with his barely regulation hair again and turned off the taps. 

After drying off, he wrapped the towel around his waist and went to check Hermione’s study. Ron pushed open the door and saw Hermione still sitting in her pyjamas. There was a glass jar with bluebell fire on her desk, and a second on the windowsill. The over-sized book was still in her lap, still opened to the middle of it, and she was still curled up in the oversized chair, having not moved the fifteen minutes he had been in the shower. 

“Hermione?” Ron stepped into her study and watched her. “Hermione,” he said again. 

She didn’t stir. Her gaze was locked onto the wall behind her desk, where Wizarding and Muggle photographs were tacked up to the wall. In the middle of the collage was the one with her parents, taken on Holiday of Christmas 1996. 

It was the last one where they were truly family, before everything was blown to hell, some out of sheer necessity. He was part of her family now, out of choice, but the one she protected at great cost was, for practical intents and purposes, still lost to her. 

Ginny told him in a letter she mailed in November their last year, when he was off at training, that Hermione was becoming prone to dark moods like Harry had. She’d lock herself away in the library, for hours on a Sunday afternoon, refusing to talk to anyone, much less take care of herself. Ginny could eventually coax her out of it, but not without some bullying on her part. 

She wasn’t like this when they were younger, he said to himself. Yes, she’d sit in the library for hours, devouring books and studying and revising well into the night. He spent many a night with her, cramming for whatever test they had the next day. But, according to Ginny, it was only later, after the fighting ended and she’d returned to Hogwarts for her final year that she would get into these dark moods. There were times in class where she wouldn’t volunteer answers, or even speak all week. But then, according to Ginny, she’d get a letter from him and start living again. 

So much went on that year, away from the letters, owls, and entirely short visits. The Hermione who came back to him that first Christmas wasn’t the same one who he put on the train back in September. The Hermione he left sleeping in their bed that cold January morning wasn’t the same one who came home at Easter, either. And it wasn’t the same one who came home in June, crying again but filled with a passionate rage that sometimes terrified him. 

And yet there were hours and sometimes days where her silence was baffling. She’d work and come home, ignoring him somewhat, either engrossed in a book or sleeping some. A day would turn into almost a week where they’d miss one another or the other would be busy with some outside obligation. Owls would come back and forth but mostly they’d miss one another in the passing of the week, only finding time for one another from Saturday morning until Monday morning. He would complain, asking for some of her precious time and she’d tell him when she did have time and then the bickering would turn into a row followed with furious shagging and heartfelt apologies. 

He’d make do with a meal and crashing in their bed, knowing she’d be in there until he woke, realizing she’d lost hours of time again. It wasn’t the life he expected, but it was his and he was going to make sure that they had the best chance to live it. 

He stood watching her lost in her darkness and knew he couldn’t bring her back. He could be there, doing his paperwork with her but until she resurfaced, she was in her own particular maze. For now, he’d let her be quiet, lost in her thoughts and memories. 

It hurt him that she tuned him out from time to time since he needed her like he needed food and air to breath. But when she was having one of her dark spells, it was prudent to not disturb her. As frustrated as he was and in need of her company, when she was _reading_ it was wisest to leave her be, if reading was not turning the page in the blasted book on her lap for hours, deep in thought. _It’s not even sex_ , he told himself often. _I miss her. I hate when she’s like this, pushing me away without realizing it._

“Maybe Ginny can help later today since I won’t be here,” he said to himself before leaving the doorway. “Or maybe I should owl Audrey.” 

He finished in the bathroom and while wearing a towel and a hopeful smile, peeked his head back into Hermione’s library. He sighed, not quite dramatically. She was now engrossed in her book and elbow deep in parchment and quills. 

“Maybe tomorrow,” Ron said to himself and went back to the bedroom to put on his sleep trousers and fresh vest. He’d eat a cold dinner, known as leftovers before crawling into the bed, alone, and sleeping a few precious hours before he was due to help George. 

“I hate feeling like a failure.” 


	7. Workaholic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron's away on a mission and Hermione has to cope any way she can while he is gone.

* * *

Hermione stepped into her office exactly four minutes to seven. That would give her enough time to stash her purse and bag in the sealed drawer, draw the parchment, quills, and ink from the other compartment, and set her desk accordingly before the inter-office memos were beating her face down. 

Ron was away on a mission and had been gone for a month now. She’s politely asked Robards about his assignment the week before and she received a curt _It’s classified_ and shuttled her out of his office and back to her own desk. 

They were still living with Harry and Ginny but were planning on moving to their own flat once they married in the fall. But the house was so quiet, especially since Ginny was off at Holyhead late every night the last two weeks. Kreacher was adequate company but not for social interaction. 

Instead of sitting at home, reading by the fire every night and coping with the loneliness it afforded, she chose to stay at work, getting ahead of every single request handed to her, and doing even more. 

Each day he was gone, she stayed a little later. The first day he was gone, she stayed until five, working on the elf rights legislation. That lasted a week. The next week, it turned into six, while working on more legislation, including research in the library regarding the lineage of elves from the sixteenth century. 

Insomnia bit at the end of the two week and she arrived at the Ministry at seven am. For the third week, six turned into eight, which quickly turned into ten. Her supervisor didn’t mind since they could fast-track more legislation through the Ministry and through the Wizengamot. She was doing the work of three people and the Directorship wasn’t going to complain of her efforts, at least where she could hear them. 

As long as Ron was away on his mission, she’d drown herself in her work. The work was necessary and vital, bringing new rights, concessions and adjustments to non-human kind. He was doing necessary work and she would too. 

“Hermione?” 

She looked up from the tenth sheet of parchment she was working on this week to see her Minister Shacklebolt standing in the doorway of her office. “Minister! This is an unexpected surprise. How can I help you today?” 

“Well, you can go home. You’re relieved until Monday of the next week.” 

“But sir!” she protested immediately. “I’m only half-way finished with the Centaur Legislation that is due in a fortnight. I still have hundreds of hours of research to do before I can present this white paper to the Directors for consideration. You’re asking me to abandon my work when I’m in the middle of the task! I will not take leave until this work is completed.” 

“Hermione,” He closed the door behind him and sat on the rickety wooden chair in her cubby known as an office. “I spoke with your Director when the payroll witch brought it to my attention that you are working on the clock almost a hundred hours a week. What he has done is unacceptable, considering everyone else in his department is working their normal workload. If you are putting in a hundred hours, then he should be working 120 along with the rest of his staff. I will not have him destroying you while he coasts.” 

“And there is no one else Director Steed trusts more to have this legislation ready for presentation for the Wizengamot than me. No one, you hear me! So let me finish this.” She pulled another piece of parchment to her. “When Ron returns, I’ll consider taking some time off.” 

“And I’m telling you that you are to go home for the next 12 days and rest. I can’t have the future Minister of Magic needing a bed in the Thickey ward from burnout at 21. You are to go home and do something other than work for the next ten days.” 

“I’m not burned out, sir. I have work to do and a deadline to meet.” She saw his stern features and looked away. “Besides, Ron’s out on a mission with Harry and it’s been a month. Why not work hard and when they return, take some time off then?” She looked up and held his gaze. “I’ve already asked Robards when Ron is returning and he told me gruffly _It’s classified_ and kicked me out of his office.” 

“And when was this, Granger?” 

“Two weeks ago, sir. I sent memos daily and would get the same answer.” She picked up a stack of parchment. “I quit asking a week ago Tuesday.” 

“Well, you should quit that.” Ron stepped into the office and smiled. His face was tight but the weariness of his mission fell off his shoulders at seeing his fiancée sitting at her desk, paralyzed in shock. 

“Ron!” 

“Now would you like those ten days off, Granger?” 

“I’ll pen my request forthwith!” 

“It’s accepted. Give it to the Director on your way out of the office immediately. Weasley is off a fortnight from now, due to return once he passes his medical evaluation.” 

“Medical evaluation?” Her face turned pale under the gas lights in her office. 

“He’s been at St. Mungo’s for the past 12 hours or so. We needed to make sure he was ok from the mission. He has some potions to take, so I understand it, but will be fine in two weeks. Right, Weasley?” 

“Yes, sir. I’ll be back in before then.” 

“Nonsense. You saved the team’s life and captured Mulciber so that’s all that matters. Take the time off. You and Potter earned it.” 

Kingsley left the office and Hermione stood up from her chair, stepping around the precarious piles of parchment in her office. She launched herself into his arms, kissing him frantically all over his face. “Why didn’t you tell me you were back? I’ve been sick with worry!” 

Ron pulled her even closer, trying to tuck her into his skin and shield her with his own flesh. “I couldn’t. Things have been fucked up trying to capture Mulciber. When we did and had him secured, we sent him to the cells downstairs. Then Harry and I were off to St. Mungo’s. Ginny is going to be beastly with him for what happened. But he’s still alive, the specky git, because I pulled his arse out of there again.” 

Hermione pulled back and looked him up and down. “You better not be hurt worse than splinched eyebrows or so help me, Ron Weasley, I’ll make you wish you were back in St. Mungo’s.” 

“Whoa!” Ron took two steps back into the door. “You really want to know?” 

“I have to know.” She crossed her arms and scowled at him. “So tell me.” 

“Fine then. Sit and I’ll tell you before we leave the office.” 

She sat on the empty edge of her desk, keeping her arms across her chest to hide her upset. 

“First off, how many doses of calming potion are you taking daily while I have been gone?” 

“Three, as noted by the Healer, and from the single vials in our bedroom. It’s half a regular dose, per Audrey. I’ve not changed it in years.” She kept her face as honest as she could muster, giving him all the candor in her soul. “I only take them when you’re on a mission.” 

Ron nodded and took a deep breath. “Our mission was in Exeter, to the Exmoor stadium. The original report was that someone broke through the security and had rigged it with some complicated items that, had the stands filled for the Quidditch match that weekend, would have blown the stadium. 

“Harry and I were sent there, with our Seniors, to undo the charms on the found potion bottles affixed to the supports. While doing that, we were attacked. See, we’d gotten the report a month earlier about one of the stadiums being rigged to blow _shortly_. So Robards sent the teams off to check all the stadiums, including Hogwarts. Harry and I, with our seniors, inspected Exmoor when we were accosted. We fought like leithifolds under the stadium and eventually, I was the only one left standing. My senior was down, along with Harry’s. I got them to my position and fought hard to keep them safe. See, Harry’d been conked in the head by a flying support beam, along with his senior, and mine went down with a badly aimed blasting curse. It didn’t stop Smythe from blowing through three supports before landing in a mess. 

“He’ll be lucky to be out of St. Mungo’s in a month. But what about you?” 

“Well, that’s the boggling part.” He rubbed his hand over his arms, trying to procrastinate. 

“Ron,” She said shortly. 

“Anyway, I was there protecting them and McNair tried to flush me out of the stadium with Fiendfyre. It seems McNair was there with Mulciber when we were set upon. The fire started and I hit McNair with a blasting curse and he flew through more of the stands. I don’t know where he landed. I left him where he landed and focused on Mulciber. 

“I couldn’t leave, leaving behind the other three. So I stood my ground and used some complicated magic to protect us. Unfortunately, I missed a spot and got my hair singed.” He lifted his regulation beanie from his head to show he had no hair remaining. 

“Oh Ron!” She crushed him in a fierce hug, sniffing into his robes. “You could have been killed!” She wiped her face on his robes and looked up at him. “Even your eyebrows are gone.” 

“Yeah, I got hurt, along with the others. But I wasn’t going to leave them. No way. I lost the hair on my head and face but saved them. Small price to pay, really.” 

“But how did you capture Mulciber?” 

“I saw him pop his head up from his hiding place across the stands and took a shot. It was probably a million to one shot, but I nailed the git from a hundred paces. Once he went down, the fire went pear shaped and I got the four of us out of there, then went back for him. I couldn’t get to McNair in time, but I could get Mulciber. After I brought him out, I called Robards and watched the stadium go up in smoke. We caught him but the stadium was incinerated.” 

“Oh no!” 

“Robards informed the owner and after some serious yelling, including what he wanted to do to Mulciber and McNair, he said it was almost worth it, to capture another Death Eater. So for now, that stadium is a loss but they’ll have it rebuilt before the start of the next one. It’ll cost some galleons but I’m sure the Ministry will help.” 

“But you, and Harry and the others?” 

“Harry’ll be in overnight. Smythe and Jones were released before I was, and are on light duty for a week, at least. And the Healer said my hair would probably be grown back tomorrow since I’ve not slept in about 2 days.” 

She reached behind her and got her quill and parchment, penning her request for the mandated time off. “There. Now we can go home and you can crash a spell.” 

“Hermione?” 

“Yes, dear?” 

“Lock the door and silence your office. I need you, now.” 

She did as he asked, but protested feebly. “The Healers?” 

“They said nothing about shagging you.”


	8. Nightlights and dark thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the night before her wedding and Hermione needs some space to breath, and think. Ron listens to her thoughts.

* * *

Ron stepped out of the kitchen into the back yard and left behind the madness and mayhem known as the night before his wedding. Hermione scampered off somewhere a few minutes earlier. Damned if he knew where she got off. 

_“Ron, she’s nervous too. Aren’t you?” Ginny spoke up from the sink while washing dishes with magic._

_“No. I’ve been waiting on the day for years.” He sat at the table, watching the back door, hoping she’d come right back in._

_“Want me to go find her?” Harry piped up from drying dishes while Ginny was washing the kettle._

_He got up from his seat and worked his way around the table. “No, I’ve got it. Just don’t let Mum think you’re up to no good in here.”_

_Ginny gave him a proper salute as he slipped out the backdoor to look for her._

“Hermione!” 

The property was as secure as Hogwart’s and Gringott’s, at least according to Bill. He could easily use the Deluminator in his pocket. It’s not like she would run off tonight, of all nights. No, she was out here, somewhere in the darkness of the September night, the hours remaining before they were to be married, bonded as husband and wife. 

He walked around the back of the house to Dad’s shed and peeked in. She wasn’t hiding in there among the nuts, batteries, and other muggle rubbish he picked up from time to time. Then again Hermione said she wasn’t that fond of being in there, because of her ability to knock everything over when she wasn’t paying attention, mostly from snogging him breathless. 

“Hermione!” he yelled again. He left the shed and checked the mostly abandoned tree house. He cast a charm and saw she wasn’t hiding up there, either. 

“Hermione!” He walked the orchard and didn’t find her among the fruit laden trees, almost ready for picking. When he returned from the honeymoon, he’d help Dad collect them for Mum’s baking and canning. 

An otter showed up at his feet, swirling around his bare legs. “ _I’m over at the pond, if you’re looking for me._ ” 

Ron clutched his wand and spun in his spot, focusing on the end of the pier into lake, making sure he didn’t apparate onto Hermione. Sure enough, she was sitting on the end, her toes just barely touching the surface of the pond. 

“I heard you yelling so I didn’t want you thinking I got cold feet and ran off.” 

“Nonsense,” he muttered before toeing off his trainers and socks to join his soon to be wife sitting on the weathered wood slats of the pier. “Get a bit much in there tonight, with Mum nattering on about your schedule tomorrow?” 

“Between her and Ginny and Fleur, I couldn’t think much less string a sentence together that didn’t make me sound I like I was losing my wits.” 

“Are you? I mean I know Mum can be a bit much especially when it comes to weddings and such.” 

“Well, yes, but it’s everyone asking every single question that I’ve answered a dozen times already.” She looked at him and saw the concern on his face. “That’s why I came outside, so I could think and relax a little, at least before I have to leave for the night.” 

“You don’t have to go. You can bunk with Ginny tonight and save a few hours hassle tomorrow.” 

“And you know how much my Mum will give me grief if I do that.” 

Ron sighed. “Yeah, I know: traditions and all that rubbish.” 

“It’s not rubbish. I’m honoring my parent’s wishes and staying with them tonight and then arriving early tomorrow while they drive in. And only a short distance away since they are staying in the area.” Hermione put her hand on top of Ron’s and squeezed. “And it’s not like I’ll be by myself. Ginny’ll be there with me. We’ll probably be up half the night gossiping.” 

Ron looked out over the water but then turned back to Hermione. “So what’s really bothering you?” 

“You know me too well.” 

“We are best friends, Hermione. I know there’s something else going on inside your head.” 

Hermione pulled her hand back and curled her arms around her body, looking out over the water. “We’re getting married tomorrow and I’m terrified. Not of you, not that at all, but what will happen.” 

“Ok,” He spoke softly and tried to smother the growing worry expanding in his throat. 

“You might get sick of my morning routine. It might be cute now how I pull apart my meal to take the things I don’t like eating out but what about in ten years? Will it irritate you to the point of resentment? What about my need to keep the cabinets a certain way and get upset when you leave your pants on the bathroom floor? And then there’s the issue of needing my own personal space for the library, when things get too busy.” 

“Hermione, calm down.” 

She continued without hearing him. “And the fact that we have to plan out every little detail of any trip we take, even if it’s around the corner to the store. I know you like to play things by ear, and do things spontaneously but will you resent that I have trouble doing that? 

“What about my work schedule? I know you get bent if I am late coming home on your day off but I worry sick when you’re off on a mission. What about if I’m working on a deadline but you want to have sex instead? How are we going to compromise what you need when I’m under deadlines and other obligations?” 

Ron put a very long finger over her lips, trying to get a word in edgewise. “We’ll do like my parents do and talk about it. You aren’t in this alone, Hermione. I’m here too, whether you like it or not. That’s what makes a marriage, I reckon.” He reached her hand and held it, feeling the sweat on her palm. “This is us, Hermione. We will get through it and we will make it work. I’m here to help balance you out some, if you want me to.” 

“How can we even cope with the life we’re making when you’re being sent off on missions I can’t be told about, for weeks to months on end, and then when you do come home, you can’t talk about it?” 

“That was the cost for me signing the contract as an Auror.” He shrugged. “Now what really has you upset?” 

“How are we going to make this work, Ron? How? This isn’t during school where the routine was set for us, and helping Harry. Things change daily and I stress by things not being routine.” 

“Come here, you.” Ron pulled Hermione on to his lap and felt her snuggle into his comforting arms. “How we do it is handling it day by day. Some days are going to be shit, for both of us. We’re going to have our days where we row and others where we bicker. There’s going to be days, probably, where I’m gagging for you and you’re eyeballs deep in work and don’t want me touching you. There’ll be times when I come home from a mission and you can’t wait ‘til we’re home and you want to shag me rotten and there will be times where all I want to do is sleep. 

“But I know that no matter how fucked up things are, tomorrow and ten years from now, I want you right alongside me. There’s no one else I’d want with me while all of it is happening.” Ron kissed her on top of her head. “Aside from Harry, you’re my favorite person.” 

Hermione pulled back from his chest and saw his eyes shining in the twilight of the evening. “You mean that? Even when I’m talking your ears off about Goblin histories and other things that bore you to sleep?” 

“I do, Hermione. And I’m going to say that tomorrow, too.” 

She snuggled back into his arms, watching the frogs swimming in the water. 

“Ron?” 

“Yeah, Hermione?” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

“And you don’t think I’m too much, do you?” 

“No. I think you’re the right amount. I’d have it no other way.” 


	9. No one else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's in a spot of bother and Ron arrived home from work knackered but also with plenty on his mind.

“There you are,” Hermione smiled when Ron stepped out of the fireplace at a little before 8am on a brisk Saturday morning. “I was waiting for you to get home. I’ve made some breakfast if you’re hungry.”

“I need a bloody shower after last night,” he grumped before toeing off his boots and throwing his jacket into the closet. “I’m blistered and stink like dragon dung. We had a bloody call-out at 10pm last night. Some barmy witch was in a strop and trying to _Obliviate_ her husband. It scared the neighbors with all the loud bangs in their flat. When he Disapparated, she was using her wand to hurt herself. We stopped her before she did too much damage but the Healers at St. Mungo’s said she’ll be in there a spell trying to reverse the self-inflicted _Obvliate_. Then Jones called a training session at 1am and it included flying brooms in the grotty shite out on the moors of the Cornish coast. She said it was to help cope with that cocked-up call-out but I know she was just itching to fly around Cornwall most of the night.” 

“I’ll have it under a warming charm once you get done.” 

Ron stomped off to their bathroom. Hermione sat fidgeting with her fingers while he sounded like a hippogriff in their bedroom, cursing while stripping out of his trousers and his pants before his shower. 

Hermione picked up the napkin from the table and dabbed her eyes. At least now she knew why she’d been a spot of bother the last fortnight with her emotions being uncontrollable. At least she had the answer to why she was nauseous all the time, couldn’t stomach anything that Molly made at Sunday brunch, and why she only craved tea and plaintains and none of the other healthy fare she preferred. Even the tried and true pumpkin pasties turned her stomach. 

It couldn’t be her unrelenting schedule the last two months at work, going in at 7am and coming home round 11pm. If she did run into Ron in the morning before work, it was a furious snog and she was off to work. No, stress hadn’t been the reason she was moody and prone to exploding at co-workers, including Ms. Blunt, who was at least reasonably understanding. 

“Ron?” 

He trudged into their very spare kitchenette and plopped down to the plate in front of him, along with a cup of tea. “Thanks,” he growled before tucking into his dinner of fried eggs, rashers, beans and tomatoes, and 2 slices of toast. 

“How was work?” 

“Shit.” He ate another few bites. 

“Ron, can we talk?” 

“No. I’m knackered, desperately needing sleep, and sod all if I have to go into work at 2 for George.” 

“I know you are but I need to talk to you and -”

“Can’t it bloody well wait ‘til I’ve slept and had lunch? Shit, it’s all I can do to stay awake right now to eat.” He finished his meal and put the plate and fork in the sink. “We’ll talk after I get home from work tonight.” 

“No, that’s not good enough.” 

“Now?” He froze three steps into the hallway. 

“Yes, now, before you take a kip.” 

“Probably won’t be able to now, considering,” he said under his breath. 

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” 

Ron turned and faced Hermione, looking incredibly sad. “I was wondering when you’d decided.” 

She stood before him boggled. “Decided? Decided what?” 

“When you were gonna chuck me over the side. I‘ve known it was coming for some time.” He fell back slightly into the wall behind him. “Bloke works his ass off trying to make ends meet and it’s not enough. I should have known. I let duty get in the way of taking care of you.” 

“Chuck you? Ron, what are you on about?” 

“Gossip ‘round the ministry is that there’s this bloke in MLS who’s been hitting on you constantly and since I’m working too much and off on missions all the bloody time and you not wanting to get married and I reckon it’s time you get a better sort of bloke in your life. I’ve worked constantly and saved so many galleons, taking so many sodding assignments, trying to be worthy of you and there’s this tosser who waltzes in and is there for you since I can’t seem to find a moment to spend any time with you.” 

“Ron, it’s not like that at all.” 

“Rubbish, Hermione. I’m not a completely dumb sod. I know you’re not happy and haven’t been for a very long time.” He deflated, refusing to look at her at all. “I was gone all those months and when I got back, there was time for a shower and a change of pants and then I was stuck at the Ministry for a bloody fortnight, it seems. When they finished with me, leaving me with no arse left, you’re busy as fuck on your job and a bloke can’t even get a moment for a dinner date because your bleeding secretary says that she can’t make room in your calendar for me.” Hermione tried to interject but he pulled a face and cut across her. “I hoped you’d change your mind about me but I guess it’s not the case.” He turned around and saw her standing slack-jawed. “When do I need to move out, or are you moving out?” 

“Ron! Stop it, now.” She hit him once on the arm and stomped past him into their bedroom and when he wouldn’t join him, she reached out to pull him in there with her. He stayed by the door while she took a seat on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m not chucking you, dear. That’s far from it. Merlin, I’m proud of you for everything you do and what you’ve done for me. Chucking you is the last thing on my mind.” 

“And the bloke at the Ministry? Isn’t he one of those hotshot solicitors who make more galleons than he knows what to do with?” 

“Ron,” Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed while trying to stifle another round of tears, “He’s the other Wizengamot solicitor I’m working with on the Elf rights legislation. He does make plenty of galleons but he’d hit on you before he’d ever hit on me. Yes, he dresses nice but that doesn’t mean he’s hitting on me. We work in the same office sometimes which is how the gossip started. But he has no interest in me and I none for him.” She smiled and he relaxed a touch. “You’re it for me, and I’m not interested in anyone else.” She tried to smile and Ron flinched. “No one else compares to you, not in the least.” 

“So what do you need to talk about then if you’re not chucking me?” He relaxed some in the doorway. 

“Well, I want to show you rather than tell you.” 

“Hermione, I’ve not slept in 48 hours. I’m completely knackered and right now, all I want to do is sleep. I’ve been working eighteen hours a day the last month, between George and the Ministry. It’s my first bloody day off from both of them and you’re busting my bits. If you’re going to talk, can it wait until I’ve slept? Merlin knows I barely know which way is up.” 

“It’ll take a second, dear.” She pulled her wand from the waistband of her flannel sleep trousers and pointed the wand at herself. 

“Hermione!” Ron rushed across the room and tackled her onto the bed. They bounced once before falling off the bed and landing in a pile on the ground. Ron rolled and pinned her wrists to the ground. “What the bloody fuck are you doing? You’ll hurt yourself.” 

“Ron, you idiot!” She couldn’t move until she released her wand. “Why did you tackle me?” 

“You were going to hurt yourself, Hermione!” He kept hold of her until kneed him in the thigh. He groaned and he released her wrists and she rolled over him

“Christ, Ron.” She worked her way out from under his lean frame and refused to wipe the tears from her face. “Why you do that to me? Why would you think I was going to hurt myself?” 

“You turned your wand on yourself. You’re going – Shit.” He turned bright red and looked away from Hermione. “Shit. You weren’t going to do that. You’re not that barmy witch from earlier. She pointed the wand at herself and did unspeakable things. Fuck, I am so sorry.” 

“Are you mental?” She cut off her train of thought and fought down the nausea. “Why would I hurt myself? And you tackling me could make me lose our baby!” She screamed at him before walking towards the doorway. 

Ron looked up over the edge of the bed at his very irritated girlfriend and saw the fury on her face. “Do what?” 

“Hurt me and the baby! That’s what I wanted to tell you this morning, Ron. I’m pregnant.” 

He sat up looking like he’d been confunded before turning bright red. “Rubbish.” 

He shrunk back when her hair bristled and her face got _that look_. “You think this is a joke, that I’m taking the piss out of you? I’m not George!” 

Ron shrunk down some, sitting back on his heels. “Pregnant? When the hell did that happen?” 

Hermione crossed her arms in front of her and threw her hip out to the side in a fantastic imitation of Jean Granger. “Probably when you came home from the last mission and needed affirmation you were still alive. I hadn’t seen you in ten months and the first thing you want to do as soon as you walked in the door was a leg over. I admit it was memorable and Merlin, I don’t think I walked right for two days. But then I didn’t see you for almost a week after that, between my atrocious schedule on the centaur legislation, your debriefings with the Aurors and working some with George. And then my schedule after the Centaur Legislation went through and things got worse, with the elf rights legislation coming up before the Wizengamot this past week and having to argue before a full bank of the Wizengamot. It’s a wonder we even had a time for this to happen.” 

“You’re pregnant!” He sat back on the floor and put his head in his hands. “You’re really pregnant.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m about eight weeks. I’ve needed to tell you for a day or two but you’ve been working more than I have in the last two weeks that I barely see you and there’s not been a good time to tell you and – “

Ron stood up from the floor and went to his girlfriend. He picked her up in his arms and laid her back onto the rumpled bedclothes, pressing frantic kisses into her face and cheeks. “You’re pregnant, with my child, and he’s going to be brilliant like you.” Her vest turned wet almost immediately. 

She heard his soft sobs and cradled his head on her chest. “And she’s going to be brilliant with you as her father.” Ron slid down her body but Hermione pulled him off her stomach but kissed him deeply, trying to convey all of the fear, the promises, and joy she felt with Ron in her life. He kissed her until nearly passing out, rolling onto his side and catching his breath. “Have you told Harry yet? Our parents?” 

“I haven’t told anyone. I needed to tell you first. I don’t think anyone suspects, not even your Mum since we’ve not gone over there in a couple of weeks now, between your work schedule and mine. But I bet she’ll figure it out sooner or later.” 

Ron put his face in his hands and she saw his shoulders shaking a touch. She knew he’d wanted kids and it seemed now was as good of a time as any. 

“I’m going to be a daddy. Brilliant.” He pulled Hermione onto his chest and pressed kisses on her face before pulling her further up his body. He lifted her vest up and placed butterfly kisses on her lower belly, feeling her giggle slightly under his lips. 

“Hello dear. I’m your Daddy.”

“Yes you are,” Hermione whispered high above his smiling face. “There’d be no one else.”


	10. Languid conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gentle bickering is the norm between Ron and Hermione, especially when it comes to talking about their pre-born child.

* * *

“I love you,” Ron panted out while trying to recall his name and which way was up. He collapsed into a mess into the bedclothes, covered in sweat and panting from exertion. Hermione nestled into his side immediately, the obvious bump on her abdomen poking up from her pregnant body. 

“I love you.” Hermione put her hands on her belly and smiled. “It seems like our mermaid is asleep.” 

“And I say it’s a merman.” He wiggled down some to lay his head on her chest. 

She laughed but didn’t take the bait. “We won’t find out for another fortnight, I reckon.” 

“And you could have just done the spell and been done with it.” Ron lifted his head from her chest and smiled. 

“And what fun is that?” She pulled the sheet up some, covering them in the slightly chilly room. “I think you enjoy bickering over our child for the fun of it.” 

“Well, since you’re feeling better and not retching three times before work, why not?” He nudged her cheek with his nose and kissed her jaw softly. “I love these moments.” 

Hermione settled back into the warm bedclothes and sighed. 

“What is it, love?” 

“I was thinking.” 

“Obviously,” he snorted and went quiet. 

“You know I’m different.” 

“Hermione?” 

“I’m not talking my heritage, or that I’m Muggleborn. I’m talking about the fact that I am a nightmare, sometimes.” 

“No you aren’t,” he retorted instantly. 

“Thanks for sparing my feelings but I think you’re biased.” 

“Well, I am biased and there’s nothing wrong with that.” 

She smiled slightly. “But not everyone is you. I work with capable people in the Ministry but they gossip. I hear the whispers and their petty comments.” She looked at her husband’s concerned face. “Audrey worked out years ago that I was different, even before getting to know me. She explained, and showed me the literature and it all made sense.” 

“What are you nattering about?” 

“When I was little, I went to see Muggle Mind Healers. They told Mum and Dad I have Aspberger’s Syndrome.” 

“Is that what your Dad was talking about? He said you were different, not unlike being a Muggleborn, but he never said specifically. He talked about some wonky things but I just assumed that was how you were.” 

“Actually, yes. That is it. And I’m worried – more like scared witless – that Rose might be the same way.” 

“And that has you worried, that she’s going to be a nightmare like you were?” 

“Yes,” she whispered into the room. “You’re so patient with me in bringing out the best in me, and don’t laugh when I have my issues.” She saw his blue eyes in the candlelight and smiled. “You’re you and I’m me but you help balance me out, and I hope I do the same for you. But Rose?” 

“Why would I laugh? You don’t laugh at my fear of spiders so why should I laugh that you can’t eat certain foods because of the smell or texture, or when you get nervous you start rubbing your arms and won’t look at anyone, or when you have one of your rough days, you hide away in spare bedroom with all the books and won’t talk with anyone, not even me.” He smiled, sharing the one he kept just for her. “I get it. I really do. And if you have a rough day once in a while, it’s not like you’re by yourself in this. I’m your husband, by your choice, and I will help you, if you let me.” 

“It’s… our child - but with me as their Mum - frightens me. I’ve read so many books and done so much reading and trying to understand things that I _just don’t get_ and it’s so much. I know I’m going to screw _something_ up and our child is going to hate me for it.” Two small tears leaked out and drifted down the sides of her face. “It’s too much and I know I’m going to fail at it.” 

“Nonsense.” He smiled in the barely lit room. “You already helped raise Harry up pretty well so this should be a breeze, except for the grotty nappies and not sleeping at night.”

“How can you be so certain of that?” 

Ron shifted in the bed and brought his head above hers in the bed, half-trapping her in the bedclothes. “I am because we’re married and we’re partners in this. You’re going to work hard at this and so I am, even if our schedules are shit and it’s not perfect. But we’re going to give it our best and fuck up sometimes and get mad about how we’re raising him but damn it, we’re going to do it _together_.” 

“You know she’s going to be a handful for both of us, right?” 

“And he’s going to be brilliant like you are, and love Quidditch like I do and be the apple of our eyes from the moment he gets here.” Ron touched the side of her face and she leaned into his touch. “And he’s going to be swotty and barmy and we’re going to go spare and it’ll test us but we’ll get through it.” 

Hermione grinned further. “And she’s going to have a sweet tooth like you do and play chess like you do and I hope she’s got your hair.” She pulled him down for a small kiss, feeling the stubble of his unshaven cheeks this early in the morning. “But I’m still worried she’ll be like me – a nightmare.” 

“Rubbish. I want him to have your hair, but my color.” Ron rolled onto his back and pulled Hermione on to his chest. “And what do you think we can do something about it if he is a nightmare like you?” 

Hermione threw her head back into the pillows, intentionally not looking at her husband. “I spent so many sleepless nights considering that. Those nights when you were off on a mission and I couldn’t sleep because you weren’t snoring in my ears, I sat up thinking.” 

“I didn’t know you still had insomnia when I wasn’t home.” 

“It happens sometimes. Anyway,” she continued, running her fingers through the smattering of ginger hairs on his chest, “I guess having so many cousins, some older and some younger, will help her adjust where when I was growing up, it was Mum and I, most of the time, until Mum got her permanent work visa. When she did and was cleared by the dental board, she went to work. But at home, it was just the two of us for a time.” Hermione reached down to the rest of the bedclothes and covered them up better. “But she did what she could to protect me but it wasn’t until later that they realized that I had this issue, for lack of a better term, and that letting me read in the library helped, yet didn’t.” 

“So what are you saying?” 

“I’m saying that being around all the cousins growing up will help tremendously. She might be quiet like Percy’s daughter Molly or she might be completely gregarious like Dominique. But I don’t want her having a lonely childhood with just me and only having books to turn to for joy and comfort.” 

“So we won’t have him isolated. He’ll go visit with Mum and play with his cousins and run around like a dragon and not have your upbringing.” 

Hermione smiled at the possibilities. “And I think she should also go to Muggle primary, but go with some of the cousins, like either George’s kids or Harry’s kids. That should suffice, I reckon.” 

Ron kissed the top of her head. “You think part of it was because your Mum wasn’t from England?” 

“Mum doesn’t think so but I disagree, as you well know. She says the UK is much better now than it was back in the mid-eighties when there were so many who were rude to her, even with her perfect English. But you know Mum never backs down from a fight, whether in English, Spanish, or French.” 

Ron chuckled. “Listening to your Mum talk with Fleur and you butting in at Hogmanay two years ago was hilarious. I thought your dad was going to hurt himself laughing.” Ron wiped his face from laughing hard. “And then when they finished their row, they were hugging. Imagine that!” 

“He almost did.” Hermione laughed. “But listening to Mum shift from English to French without missing a beat is always a treat. She’s so smart – “

“And you get it from her.” 

“Well, yes, but Dad too. But I want our daughter to have a better childhood than I had.” She leaned up onto her elbows and looked at Ron’s smiling face. “I want her to have an enormous family who adores her and she can play and also have time to read and enjoy being a kid.” 

“Is that what you want?” 

“I told you I had so many hours to think on it.” 

Ron kissed her cheek. “You really think we’re having a little girl?” Hermione nodded. “So you want her to have what I had growing up?” He grinned. “You make it sound like she should be here already, I reckon. I dunno, I might fancy having a daughter, now that you talk about it.” 

“I do. I think having a big family will be much better than being with Mum most of the days growing up until I went off to primary school and had problems.” 

Ron laughed. “Do you know what I think about all this?” 

“What’s that?” She reached down and pulled up the duvet, covering them in charmed warmth. 

“I think our child will have parents that love them as much our parents loved us, but unlike mine, our kids will have the means to have all they need growing up.” 

“You mean that, don’t you? Money won’t solve all our problems.”

“I reckon I do. You’re not the only one who is a little different. That’s why I work so hard at two jobs – so our kids won’t have to do without.” 

“But we already make good money, Ron. My job in MLS pays considerably more.” 

Ron pulled her close and kissed her temple. “You’re not the only one who promised to make sure our kids didn’t have the negative aspects of how we grew up. I said mine wouldn’t do without whatever they need. Sure, they’ll be spoiled with love, and maybe better brooms – “

“Ron!” 

“But I also want it where they have all the books they want, without us worrying about affording it, or having galleons to go on trips further than down the river for the day. I want our kids to have lessons and go places and learn things and have it better than we did.” He lifted her head and smiled wide. “We paid enough for the life we want to provide for our child.” 

Hermione snuggled in close. “You’re so good to me, and us.” 

“That’s what I’m here for – to be your partner in this _parents_ thing.” He kissed her again, igniting joy between them. “That was my promise to you when we married. I plan on keeping it, whether you’re different or not.”

* * *

_Finis_

**Author's Note:**

>  _A/N2:_ All the pasties and butterbeer if you can catch the 60s references. - DG


End file.
